The Practice Child
by 2Old4This2
Summary: This story takes place shortly after Tatooine Ghost, if you've followed the EU. Han and Leia have made the decision to start a family. Now all they can do is wait, anticipate, and maybe get in a little practice first.


**The Practice Child**

_A _StarWars_ Fan Fiction_

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_First, an explanatory note. I'm dedicating this story to my husband Lenny. This is the anniversary of his death (and no I'm not that old! Sometimes bad things happen when you're young) and rather than be sad, I thought something light and fluffy was appropriate. Trust me, he'd enjoy this. I'll post the last chapter of Boys Will Be Boys tomorrow._

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Leia Organa-Solo turned from away from the dark window with a sigh. Absently, she rubbed at her belly, her _empty _belly, then self-consciously pulled her hand away. Ever since she and Han had decided to start a family, she had dutifully checked every morning to see if the longed-for child had been conceived. As of this morning, the answer was still no. Which meant that they would just have to keep trying. She felt a warm flush of heat spread through her as she smiled. It really wasn't that huge of a burden on her—or on her husband, she suspected—that they were going to have to keep working on that little project!

If only she still weren't so terrified at the thought of becoming a parent. Han had told her, more times than she could count, that just because her father—her biological father—had turned to the dark side of the Force, that didn't mean that she would, or that her child would. Her brother Luke certainly wasn't in any danger of falling in that direction, her husband had pointed out. And, as Han liked to remind her, the DNA of any child they conceived would be half his. There certainly wasn't any risk that _he_ would fall to the dark side, or the light side, or _any_ side of the Force, for that matter. Leia smiled wryly; maybe she was just afraid to be a parent—period.

Speaking of prospective fathers… Leia glanced at the antique timepiece Han had secured for them from somewhere, she suspected she didn't want to know from where, and wondered where her husband was. He'd said he was going to 'just have a drink or two' with Wedge Antilles and Carlist Rieekan. Not so unaccountably, this combination of male hormones made her a tiny bit uneasy; the Maker alone knew what they might get themselves involved in. Han was even missing the broadcast of the smashball game of the week, though she supposed he could be watching it wherever it was they were drinking. She hoped they were just drinking, not hatching some sort of plot or other to bring democracy to a remote part of the galaxy. That was her job!

With a sigh, Leia returned to the low table in their small living room. It was covered with flimsies, datachips, and every other form of data storage device known to the sentient universe. Yes, she was bringing democracy to the galaxy alright, one byte of data at a time!

Leia picked up a flimsy, and stared unhappily at it for a moment, then laid it back down. In its place, she picked up the remote for the holoviewer. If Han was out playing with his friends, she wasn't going to stay at home and work; she'd watch something ridiculously sappy and romantic on the screen, instead. So there, Han Solo! And Mon Mothma and the New Republic senate, too!

She had just pulled up her favorite vid; a period piece from before the Clone Wars, with noble knights who wooed none too helpless maidens with impeccable manners and wearing the most ridiculously elegant wardrobes possible, when she heard the door open. Han was home early.

Leia pause her holo—there was no way she was turning it off so Han could watch smashball now—and went to the apartment's small entryway. She stood on tiptoe to give him a very thorough kiss.

"You're home earlier than I expected," Leia said, by way of a welcome home. "Did you three start any new wars?"

"I told you we were just going to have a couple of drinks." He bent down to return the kiss, rather awkwardly, Leia noticed. "And no, we didn't start any wars. Though Wedge did say—"

Leia put her hands over her ears. "Stop! I don't want to hear it!" She looked her husband over carefully. He seemed perfectly fine, except for that odd way he held his hand against his side.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, concern and suspicion jockeying for position in her mind. "You didn't get in any barfights, did you?

"I'm fine," Han said. "And I don't do that anymore!" he objected with righteous indignation.

"Then what's this?" With a sharp gesture, Leia reached out to his side, where she could see a definite lump. What had he gotten into now?

"Hey, be careful! You'll hurt it!"

"What it?" she asked ungrammatically.

Han reached inside his jacket and pulled out a tiny gray and black striped ball of fur. Two big amber eyes stared nervously at Leia from the palm of his hand.

"What is it?" Leia asked, rather stupidly, she realized.

"It's a pittin."

"Well, I know that." Leia mentally regrouped, and tried again. "Why do you have a baby pittin in your jacket?"

The strangest collection of emotions passed across Han's face: worry, embarrassment, and a kind of sweet pride. Leia wasn't sure she'd ever seen that particular look on his face before.

"Well," he began, "you know how we've been worrying about being parents?"

Leia nodded, though she hadn't actually known Han was concerned about parenting, only that she was.

"Well, I know this guy. He said his daughter was trying to find homes for a litter of pittins, and I thought maybe we could practice…" Han's voice trailed off. He looked at his wife, trying to gauge her reaction.

"It's a pittin," she said, "not a baby."

"It's a _baby_ pittin!" he objected. He raised the small gray ball up to look at its face. "It's awfully cute," he said.

Leia moved closer to look at it—brown eyes meeting amber ones. She remembered the pittins that her aunts had. They'd run around the royal palace like holy terrors and Leia had loved them beyond all reason. She had to blink back tears.

"What's his name?" She took the tiny ball of fur from Han and checked under his tail. Definitely a him.

"Spot."

She looked at Han with raised brows. "He's striped."

"I know. That's why I named him Spot." That beautiful, crooked grin lit Han's entire face at the same moment the pittin squirmed and mewed in Leia's hands. She didn't stand a chance, she realized, they were double teaming her. Leia reached up to kiss her husband again.

"Fine," she said with an answering smile, "we have a pittin. Where's his stuff?"

"His stuff," Han repeated in some confusion.

"His food, his food bowls, his toys…" Leia began. The confusion on Han's face changed to consternation. He hadn't thought of any of that.

"…his toiletries…" Leia continued.

"Wait a minute! Toiletries? He's a pittin, not a prince, your Worship!" Han objected.

Leia gave him The Look. "That's right, he's a pittin, and unless you want him going under some piece of furniture, or in your boots, maybe, he needs a place of his own to do his business." She almost laughed out loud at the look of horror on her husband's face.

She glanced at the clock. "There's just enough time for you to get to the shops and pick up what he needs."

Threatened with the possibility of Spot using his boots as a 'fresher, Han hurried back to the door. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he called back to her as the door slid open and he left.

Leia held the pittin up to her face. She might not say it to Han, but she was pleased with the new addition to their family.

"Daddy can't help it if he's clueless," she explained to the small gray bundle, "but he does mean well."

The pittin didn't agree with her. With a hiss, Spot swung a tiny paw at Leia's face. When she jerked him away, he sank needle-sharp teeth into her thumb.

"Ow!" she yelled, loosening her grip on the now squirming creature, "you little…" He leapt from her hands, landing in the middle of the piles of flimsies. Then, with one leap, he jumped from the table and under the nearby couch. Flimsies flew in every direction.

"Kriff!" Leia swore, sucking on her bleeding thumb.

Twenty minutes later, with her thumb bandaged and the flimsies re-stacked, Leia was peering under the couch with a glow rod. Spot peered cautiously back.

"Come here, Spot," she said encouragingly. "I'm sorry I swore at you. It's safe for you to come out now." The pittin remained as still as a statue.

With a certain trepidation, she reached her hand under the couch. Spot moved back as far away from her as he could.

"Fine," she said to the recalcitrant creature, "but you just wait until your father gets home."

At that moment, the door slid open to reveal Han, loaded down with parcels.

"I think I got everything he needs," he said, dropping his parcels onto a nearby cabinet. "Is everything okay?" he asked when he saw Leia on her knees by the couch.

"I don't think Spot likes me very much."

"Aw, don't worry about it. He'll come out once he sees all the stuff I got him," he said proudly.

Leia and Han distributed pittin paraphernalia all over their tiny apartment, but the pittin himself refused to make an appearance. Han got down on his hands and knees by the couch and made a series of what he claimed were pittin noises, but Spot refused to be enticed. After placing a bowl of food at the edge of the couch, the couple went to eat their own meal. No pittin appeared.

"He hates me," Leia said morosely as they cleared away the last of their dishes.

"No he doesn't. He's just scared."

"Yeah, I scared him." Leia looked shamefully up at her husband. "I cursed at him," she admitted in a quiet voice.

Han fought the smile that threatened to appear. "He's just a pittin," he said, a bit unsteadily, "he doesn't even know what you said."

"I know he's just a pittin." Leia's voice rose. "And if I can't handle a pittin, I sure won't be able to take care of a baby!"

And there was the problem, Han thought.

"Yes, you will. You'll be a great mom." He kissed her gently on the top of her bowed head. "Speaking of babies, your Worship," his smile morphing from sweet to sensual. "Why don't we go work on that." Han grabbed her hand and started toward the bedroom.

"No, I can't."

Han froze in his tracks. "What?"

"I can't," Leia repeated, "not with Spot scared and hiding under the couch!"

"Leia!"

"I'm sorry, Han. I just can't." Leia almost laughed at the pained look on Han's face; he looked so disappointed. She felt her own heat return—she supposed she could at least try to forget about Spot, she thought eagerly—she'd just check on him one more time. She dropped on her knees by the couch and looked underneath it. The pittin glared back at her.

Leia got to her feet. "I'm going to comm Winter," she announced. There was no way that pittin was going to get the best of her—she needed reinforcements.

"Winter? Why?"

"She used to help my aunts with the pittins. She'll know what to do." With renewed purpose, Leia headed to the other room to get her comm.

While he waited, Han walked over to the couch. "You know," he said in its general direction, "man to man, you could help me out here." From far underneath the piece of furniture, Han heard a plaintive mew. "You aren't coming out, are you?" he asked it disconsolately. There was no reply.

Leia reappeared a few minutes later.

"What'd she say?" Han asked her.

"That he's scared and he'll come out when he's ready."

"See, what'd I tell you?" With a look that promised wonderful things to come, Han took Leia's hand again.

_The little stinker will come out when he's ready_, Leia assured herself, with one last look at the couch. Right now mommy had more important things to do.

**Leia stretched contentedly, and planted a kiss on her husband's bare chest. **Han grunted a little and reached out a hand to stroke her cheek, but didn't open his eyes.

This was her favorite part of lovemaking with Han, Leia thought lazily. She stretched again, and ran her fingers admiringly along the muscles covering his ribs. Well, she conceded, maybe not her very favorite part. She wondered if a baby would give them any time for this. Gods, she hoped so!

A movement—so small she thought she imagined it—caught her attention. What could possibly be on the foot of the bed? As she watched, two little ears followed two little paws up over the edge of the bed. Struggling a little, Spot pulled himself up, then stopped to stare curiously at her.

Leia didn't move. The little pittin edged cautiously toward her, stopping to sniff every few steps. Leia held her breath as Spot reached her side. They regarded each other for a minute before the little pittin hopped up on her belly. Leia smiled.

"So you forgive me, huh?" she asked him.

Spot blinked his eyes once, give a soft mew, and lay down on top of her. Leia reached her hand up to pet his soft head.

"Hey," a groggy voice spoke from the other side of the bed. "I see he's out."

Leia nodded, rubbing her finger along Spot's ears. "I guess he likes me after all," she said.

Han's hand met hers on the pittin's head.

"You're going to be a great mom," he told her.


End file.
